not to do what I was doing?
I wasn’t sure. But again, there it was.
I was shooting the last few pictures of Morissonneau’s skeleton when Ryan reappeared, looking like the cat that swallowed Big Bird. I waved him into the lab.
“They’ve got him,” he said.
“I’ll bite,” I said.
“Hershel Kaplan.”
“How’d they catch him?”
“Genius failed to pay for a bauble.”
“He stole something?”
“Slipped a necklace into his pocket. All a terrible mistake. He intended to pay.”
“Of course. What now?”
“I’d like to haul his ass back to Canada.”
“Can you do that?”
“Not unless we charge him. Then we can formally request extradition through external affairs.”
“Have you got enough to charge him?”
“No.”
“He’d fight it anyway.”
“Yes.”
Ryan chin-gestured the skeleton. “What’s happening with Masada Max?”
“Carbon fourteen puts his birthday somewhere around the time of the Bethlehem star.”
“No shit.”
“I’m trying to send him back to Israel.”
I told Ryan about my conversation with the IAA.
“What got your sonar pinging?”
I thought about that.
“Jake told me not to talk to anyone in Israel until I’d spoken with him.”
“So why call?”
“LaManche wants the skeleton gone.”
“Why not level with Bloom?”
“Jake’s caution, I suppose. I’m not sure. A little voice just told me to wait and talk to Blotnik.”
“Probably a good bet.”
“There’s something else.”
I told him about Morissonneau.
Ryan’s brows dipped. He was about to speak when both my cell and his beeper erupted.
Ryan took the gizmo from his belt, checked the number, and pointed at my desk phone. I nodded and stepped into the adjoining lab.
“Temperance Brennan.”
“Tovya Blotnik calling from Jerusalem.” Santa voice. Rich and jolly as hell.
“I’m delighted to hear from you, sir. I wasn’t expecting your call before morning.”
“Ruth Anne Bloom phoned me at home.”
So much for the ban on interruptions.
“Thank you for taking the time,” I said.
“Not at all. Not at all. It’s a pleasure to accommodate foreign colleagues.” Blotnik chuckled. “You work for a coroner in Canada?”
I explained my position.
“Right, then. What’s this about a skeleton from Masada?”
I described the photo that had started it all. Then, using no names, I told Blotnik how the skeleton had been stolen from the Musee de l’Homme by Yossi Lerner, then hidden by Avram Ferris and Sylvain Morissonneau.
I outlined the radiocarbon results.
I did not mention Hershel Kaplan. I did not mention the Joyce book, or the reason behind the theft and concealment of the bones. I did not mention the samples I’d sent off for DNA testing.
I did not mention the fact that Ferris and Morissonneau were dead.
“You obtained this photo how?” Blotnik asked.
“From a member of the local Jewish community.” True enough.
“Probably all nonsense.” The jovial chuckle now sounded forced. “But we can’t ignore this, now can we?”
“I think not.”
“And I’m sure you’re quite anxious to be rid of this mess.”
“I’ve been authorized to release the bones. If you’ll provide a shipping address, I’ll arrange with FedEx-”
“No!”
No chuckle there.
I waited.
“No, no. I can’t put you to all that trouble. I’ll send someone.”
“From Israel to Quebec?”
“It’s no problem.”
No problem?
“Dr. Blotnik, archaeological materials are transported internationally all the time. I’m perfectly happy to package the materials and use any shipping service you select-”
“I must insist.”
I said nothing.
“There have been some unfortunate outcomes recently. Perhaps you’ve heard of the James ossuary?”
The James ossuary was the ancient stone coffin mentioned in the Internet links. I vaguely recalled something in the news a few years back about damage to an ossuary on loan to the Royal Ontario Museum.
“The James ossuary was the piece broken in transport to Toronto?”
“Smashed would be a better word. En route from Israel to Canada.”
“It’s your call, sir.”
“Please. This is best. I’ll be back in touch shortly with the name of the envoy.”
Before I could reply Blotnik cut me off.
“The skeletonis in a secure location?”
“Of course.”
“Security is of the utmost importance. Make sure no one has access to those bones.”
I returned to my lab as Ryan was cradling the receiver.
“Kaplan’s not talking,” he said.
“And?”
“Guy in major crimes over there says he’ll turn up the heat.”
Ryan noticed that I was disconnected from the conversation.
“What’s up, sunshine?”
“I don’t know.”
Ryan’s expression reshaped subtly.
“Too much cloak and dagger over this skeleton,” I said. “Even if itis the missing Masada skeleton. If thereis a missing Masada skeleton.”
I recounted my conversation with Blotnik.
“A five-thousand-mile trip seems a bit drastic,” Ryan agreed.
“A bit. Antiquities are routinely shipped around the globe. There are companies that specialize in doing just that.”
“How about this.” Ryan placed a hand on each of my shoulders. “We have a nice dinner, go back to your place, maybe slip into something derived from the art of dance.”
“I didn’t order the tap pants.”
My gaze drifted to the window. I felt anxious and restless, and didn’t know why.
